Living Nightmare
by HellIsForChildren
Summary: The death of a close friend leads Shego into slightlytopersonal conversations with the people close to her, including Ron Stoppable, Kim Possible, and Dr. Drakken, which bring her to an odd conclusion about her life.


Living Nightmare

Chapter 1 - Look Who I Bumped Into

Shego visited the gravestone every day that month that was cold and gray and raining. When it was dark and dreary and she was sure nobody else would be there. She didn't like to be near any living, breathing people while she was near the grave. It made her even more depressed.

Though at first that it couldn't get any more painful then it already was. But soon found out she was wrong. Whenever she saw another person she would, for some inexplicable reason, get the feeling that she was either looking at an animated corpse, or that she was dead herself and staring at a being from a world she was no longer a part of. She felt like if they looked in her direction their eyes would pass over her and they wouldn't see a thing. Not a person. Not a girl. Not a mass of trembling, grief-stricken meat. Just air.

Then she had an incredible violent urge to lash out and slaughter them. Why should they get their life, as sad and desperate as it may be, when he had lost his own? And now he was underground?

If there had been one improvement in her after he had died, it was loss of denial. It had taken her years to accept that she was in love. Now that he was gone she had suddenly had no problem seeing the rather obvious, thoroughly disturbing things in her life. It had become perfectly clear to her, for example, that she was completely losing her mind.

As she stood at the foot of the grave at his funeral she began to get the distinct impression that he wasn't dead at all. That she was being separated from his still living form by six feet of wet dirt. And she imagined being able to tunnel down to it and break it open and she'd suddenly be back in the house, with nothing changed. She imagined him standing next to her. Maybe complaining. Or gloating about the turn out.

She was to far deep into madness and shock to bring herself to cry, and she waited out the funeral and walked away from the cemetery with the feeling she was dreaming. Then, with no ideas for how she would continue her life, she did the only thing she could think to do, or knew how to accomplish in this state.

She went out drinking.

She had just lost a friend. She had to go out and find a new one, of which there were assorted choices. There were gin and tonics, bourbon and milks, screwdrivers, black russians and several different flavors of schnapps and liqueur. Then they all went away and there was a bottle of tequila constantly by her side. They were mildly comforting, but completely unsatisfying conversation-wise.

This went off and on four weeks. And she had been on a three-day binge with no signs of stopping when she so suddenly ran into her worst enemy.

Or, an extension of her worst enemy.

"Oh, damn!" She exclaimed as she knocked into a passerby on her way to the next bar. He lay sprawled at her feet, and, after a second or two, her vision came into focus on a familiar blond head.

"You!" He yelled. What an annoying voice, she fleetingly thought.

"Watch where you're going, sidekick. I am not in a very good mood. You'll be lucky if I don't splatter you all over the pavement."

"Wow, you look awful."

"You are just so sweet, aren't ya? You sure know how to talk to a lady."

"What happened to you? Have you been sick?" He looked genuinely worried, which made her even angrier then she already was.

"No, I've been drinking. But thanks for the pity."

"Drinking?"

"Yup. Hey," She looked as if she was suddenly struck with a great idea. "Why don't you come out with me? I bet you've never even smelled so much as a drop of alcohol. Come on, I know a great place."

"I don't want to drink!" He said.

She smiled. "You will when what's-her-name dies."

"Kim."

"That's it! Sorry, I'm not quite at the top of my game about now." She put her hand on her forehead.

"That's okay, but Kim's not dying."

"No.." She said in an indifferent tone. "No. Superheroes do seem to have oddly long life spans for the work they do. But everyone dies someday. So when you're about ninety-seven and Kimmie kicks the bucket you can look me up instead of wasting your last days grieving with the grandkids and we'll have a drink. Until then."

She started to walk away, but Ron grabbed her by the arm. "Oh, no. You need a glass of water or some coffee or something. And food. You look like you haven't eaten in days."

"Three." She said. "That's actually not too long."

"Maybe not by your standards." He said. "But we normal people tend to eat regularly. C'mon."

She wasn't far enough into her right mind to resist. And so she was dragged into, of all places a tiny fast food joint by one of the freaks that made up the opposite side. Oh boy, if Doctor D could see her now.

They sat in a booth off to the side and she watched almost with fascination as he ordered an extensive amount of food at the counter without pausing for breath. The teller pressed it all in as if the two were telepathically connected. He must come here a lot, she thought.

"What do you want?" He asked.

"Um.. A cup of coffee. Black. And a glass of water. Tall." She was feeling severely dehydrated.

"And get something to eat. The food here is magic. There's nothing better then a naco as a cure for the blues." He grinned.

"Naco? What in the name of God kind of food is that?" His face almost fell, which gave her distinct pleasure.

"You've never had a naco? Oh, you poor deprived girl."

And there was her bad mood again.

"Okay. I'll have three burrito supremes."

"Good choice." He said, she glared.

She pounded down the coffee as soon as she got to the booth, then grimaced. Fast food coffee was sick, worse then the stuff you could get at a convenience store. But still, for some reason, the thick, greasy quality of it made her oddly comfortable, and it was strong. Better then the expensive stuff that Drakken always bought. It made her feel a little better.

"Okay, so, who died?" Ron asked.

"What?"

"You were talking about people dying. Did something happen?" For a moment he looked almost hopeful. "Is it Drakken?"

"No!" She slammed one glowing hand down on the table and he cowered under it. "Sorry, did I get your hopes up? Thinking of running to tell the hero, are we? I bet it would make her day."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, you don't have to get so huffy."

"The Hell I don't." She rolled her eyes. "Huffy? What is that? Why do you even bother opening that big mouth of yours?"

"I said I was sorry. So what happened?"

"Well, all is forgiven." She said sarcastically. "And it's nothing. I just got back from a friends funeral, is all."

"Oh," He looked a little sad as she said it. She had no idea why. Wasn't his friend… "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, I know. That's part of what makes you so annoying. Again, I don't need your pity. People die, you know." She stopped. "No, wait, of course you don't know. You're in the hero fold. People like you are never touched by reality. You coast through life."

"That's not true!"

"Oh, I think it is." She said, and leaned forward toward him as if she was about to whisper something in his ear. She glared at him and he shuddered. "Have you ever known someone who died? Someone close to you? Someone who didn't go from natural causes?"

"No. But.."

"Have you ever seen a person die? Or get hurt by somebody else? Have you ever witnessed an injustice that wasn't reconciled almost immediately? Have you ever known someone who got the short end of life's stick and didn't turn in to some idiotic inspiration story? What do you have in life if not perfection? What are you surrounded by if not for prodigies? And prodigies on the right side of the law? Have you ever stolen? Or drank? Or smoked? Or swore? Have you ever done something bad of your own free will? I think not."

"Well yeah, but.."

"But I do have to hand it to you. Of all the do-gooders you know and are a part of, you seem the most…real. Almost like a person. Not the kind I know. But a normal one."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, that was almost a compliment."

"Don't flatter yourself, kid." She finished off her second burrito and wiped her mouth. "This is actually good. I love junk food."

"If you don't mind my asking, how did your friend die?"

"On the job." She said. "But, of course, he still finished off his mark, that's just like him."

"He was an…"

"Assassin? Yeah. That's how we met. Worked together. I knew him for…" She paused. " Nine years? Yeah, nine."

"It must be horrible to lose a friend."

"Yes."

"You must be really sad."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"You said that. But thanks…I guess. You know," She said. "We actually had a bet going for who would live longer. A lot of my friends do stuff like that. He always said I would bite the dust any day, but I guess I won that one, huh? People were actually coming up and congratulating me for that at the funeral. We don't take death that seriously, at least on the surface. Probably because it could happen to a person in our business at any moment. We've made peace with it." She took a sip of her water. "But it's weird. For all the friends that I've had that have danced with the reaper, I knew they all would go. But as soon as I saw him in the coffin, with his head the wrong shape on the pillow, he was shot in the skull, I sort of went into shock. More shock then sadness, really. I guess I didn't expect this of him. I sort of thought I'd be there when he died, as weird as that is. I thought he'd be bleeding on the floor with me at his feet and he'd go out with a joke and I'd be able to immediately come to terms with it. But instead I'd been gone for a few years and the first time I see him sense I leave he's a cadaver."

Ron just stared at her.

"Does the way I talk scare you a little, Stoppable?"

For a moment he looked awkward. "Sorta."

"Hmm." She finished the last of her meal and half stood up in the booth. "Well, thanks for the food-like substance sidekick, my head feels a little clearer now, but I really should be going. I've been away from the lair for like two weeks. Doctor D is gonna be furious."

"You really want to go back there? Are you sure you don't want to hit a hotel or something?"

"No. I need to head back. I miss the lair. I miss my room. I miss the idiot henchmen. And, as crazy as it may be, I kinda miss Doctor D."

"Okay. But are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you?" He asked.

"Yeah, sure, you can call me a cab back home. If you really wanted to be nice."

"You know, Stoppable," she said as they waited outside in the twilight for her cab. "You may be a bumbling moron, but you're easy to talk to."

"Thanks, I guess."

"No problem, kid, I'll see ya the next time Drakken tries to take over the world. Oh, and one more thing.." She lit up her hands and grabbed him roughly by the collar. "If you ever tell anyone about anything I've said, especially Drakken or Miss Perfect, I'll kill you. No family members, no friends, no other villains or heroes. Got it?"

Ron gulped. "O-okay." He stuttered.

"Good." She climbed into the bright yellow taxi, the color darkened by the rain. "Bye."

And she flew off in the direction of the lair, strangely nervous about what Drakken would say when she got home.


End file.
